


poppies and cornflowers

by millimallow



Series: the world of owa [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Elves, Family, Fantasy, Gen, The Plainslands, short fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 08:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17484614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millimallow/pseuds/millimallow
Summary: the earth, in all its beauty, has its place for you.





	poppies and cornflowers

the ceremony begins at three. no tale of missing persons and dead birds could have deterred me from that moment; my prize after years of work and study. my position was a great burden on me- it meant wandering through sunbitten fields or waterlogged marshes should it be required of me- but i had no hesitation to show, none left in my body. i was ready. and i said it to myself in my mind until the words began to mean nothing anymore: the ceremony begins at three. i was to meet everyone there, and i could not be a minute late.

the story behind the ceremony began what is now perhaps ten years ago. when i had left my education, a rural school located several miles from our lonely village, there had been a celebration in my family. we sat around the oak dining table, next to the fireplace, and covered it with the worn green-with-gold-trim cloth which had been given to my parents as a wedding gift, and there we ate wild-caught pheasant and drank heady molasses beer until my uncle askram could not walk properly. as we lifted his body to the rocking chair to let him rest, all the while his mouth foaming and spitting out garbled sound, my mother turned to me and began to speak.

“you’re going to have to find some work soon.” it was the line i had dreaded hearing. educating me had been a novel idea in the first place, as i was the only child and my father eagerly awaited someone who would assist him with the leatherwork, but my grandparents had insisted on it. now it was over there was not much i could do to hide from this new inevitability. it was not a trade school; as such i had no vital crafting skill that i could put to use. and though i fished in my spare time my mother would often insist that the river dwellers were dirty types, and to avoid them. learning magic was not an option, nor could i leave for the next town over to employ my arithmetic skills. they were also “dirty people” in the town.

“i don’t really know what to do.” askram was mostly limp by this point, yet finally setting him down was a great weight off my shoulders. all i could do was be honest with her about how i felt, regardless of her response.

“you should do what your father does and make leather with him” she responded to me curtly.

“but i don’t know how to make leather.” she tutted in response.

“it’s in your blood, isn’t it? or was all your blood washed out by some teacher up in that shack of yours.” her comment angered me, but i kept my mouth shut and tried to step silently towards the table up until when i heard her voice ring out from behind me.

“did you hear that, everyone? sajorie doesn’t know what she’s going to do for work.” i froze in my tracks, feet pausing before i could tiptoe to the next floorboard. “what a little genius she’s turned out to be!” clearly she had attracted some attention with her words, as everyone else in the house excluding askram had turned to look at her once more except me. my grandfather- my mother’s father, with his wife and my grandmother having passed a few years earlier- sighed and shook his head in response.

“she’s just finished, mirice. give her today for a celebration, why don’t you?”

“because i woke up at six to milk the goats at five years younger than her and didn’t complain for a minute.” he laughed, turning her pale face pink.

“you saved the complaining for after you had to feed the chickens and weed the mint garden. oh, and after you had to read the letter sent by our neighbour complaining of the noise you made chasing after the kid that escaped the day before!” this time the whole table erupted into laughter while my mother’s face only got redder. my other grandmother beckoned me towards her and put her hand firmly on her shoulder when i came.

“there is plenty of work out there for a healthy young girl like you. my sister, your great-aunt, when she was younger- well, she was a courier. the special type with all the bright colours.” like her i could not remember the specific name for the role, but i knew instantly what she was referring to. i had seen them many times before running out behind the bird shed, unable to stop for a second so as to not interrupt their constant pace, and there were the times i saw them delivering letters to my mother at the door. these letters were from far away- travelling relatives or invitations to trade shows- and my mother had a habit of reading them aloud like she had done in her youth. the runners.

“with the floral patterns?” i asked.

“mhm. all dyed for that one purpose. at night, the outlines of the petals light up like fireworks.” suddenly i was young again, barely knee high, listening to her recounting ancestral tales by rote. “it is not easy work, but you can get the hang of it very quickly.”

“the dyeing or the running?”

“the running, my dear.” she whistled for a second. “they taught you to run a field in school, didn’t they?” i nodded, and she tucked a strand of her once-brown grey hair behind her ear. “then you can run even further.”

that was when i knew.

and now i was finally finished, my preparation and training had been exhausted. i was to meet haines and forrel by the burning wooden effigy of a cockerel out in the circle where the grass had been cleared, wearing my crown of poppies and cornflowers, dancing around in a circle as the brightness cast our shadows on tall heather overgrowth and erect wild wheat plants. my grandmother took me by the shoulders once more, called me by my full name, brushed wild seeds from the red capelet i wore.

my name, sajorie cullathan ythes.


End file.
